


An Underhanded Revolution

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Allusions to MPREG, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, PWP, Scenting, Self-Lubrication, Skinwalkers - Freeform, Succubi & Incubi, creature!fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-04
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-15 15:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/528861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing in Purgatory stays human for long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The latest chapter of _Trails_ was giving me trouble, so I thought I'd write PWP. Except then there was an entire first chapter without any porn. 
> 
> Hm.

“You smell different,” Castiel tells him. The two of them are curled together for warmth under a tree, as they do most nights – or what passes for night around here. It took less than three before Dean revised his boundaries on personal space. There’s something empty about Purgatory. It isn’t so much cold as just empty of heat. There isn’t wind. Or rain. Dean’s growing to miss shitty weather, rain and sleet heaving down so hard that they’d have to pull the Impala over and wait for the clouds to break. Purgatory is a place absent of weather. There are trees, darkness, and monsters. Nothing else. 

Dean turns to face him, frowning over his shoulder. “Smell different how?” Washing is a luxury they do without most of the time, save for quick splashes of water across their face. Helps keep them awake and alert. 

Their clothes, too, are caked in mud, and by all rights should stink to the high heavens by now. Maybe they do. Maybe they’re just used to the smell. The only one that Dean ever notices anymore is the strange musky scent that hangs everywhere, like the place is covered in dust and they just can’t see it. 

Castiel nudges his shoulder in a small shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Shut up and go to sleep, then. I’ll take first watch.” 

It’s a sign of how long they’ve been here that Castiel obeys. He used to say that he didn’t need sleep and that Dean should be more concerned about himself. Maybe he was lying, or maybe Purgatory stripped him of whatever mojo he had left. They’re both too tired to hide it these days. It’s fine, though. Dean’s become used to Cas being less than an angel. 

He thinks Purgatory made it worse. Cas used to be able to fly still, and smite any creature that dared come close enough. He hasn’t done either in a long while. Dean thinks he’ll be close to human by the time they get out of here. If they get out of here. 

Small mercies, though – it’s been quiet. For days, now, and Dean thinks the place is trying to lull them into a false sense of security. That, or the monsters have all gone elsewhere. He doubts that one somehow. 

The watch is uneventful, though, and quiet except for Castiel’s soft snoring. Dean passes time by humming songs under his breath. 

Some hours later, Castiel jerks awake. 

“Cas?” Dean keeps his voice low. “You okay?” It’s not unusual for either of them to have nightmares. He tightens his arms around Castiel’s waist, trying to offer some semblance of safety and security.

Castiel shakes his head. “There’s a wolf here. About three hundred yards north.”

Dean isn’t sure Purgatory even has a north, but he scans the trees for any sign. “I can’t see anything, Cas.” All the same, he reaches for their knife. 

“It’s here. Just behind those trees.” 

Castiel points, but Dean doesn’t see the wolf until it starts padding closer. He glances up at the sky, checking for a full moon. It doesn’t particularly matter whether this is a werewolf or a skinwalker, though. Both need silver to kill them, and all they have is one knife. Dean grips it a little tighter. 

Curiously enough, the wolf at no point breaks into a run. It skirts around them, like it’s weighing up the danger of coming any closer. 

“ _Leave._ ”

Dean takes a minute to register that the growled order came from Castiel. The wolf, on the other hand, immediately tucks its tail between its legs and hurries off in the opposite direction. 

Dean turns to stare at Cas. “What the hell was that?”

“Protection. Go to sleep, Dean. It’s my turn to watch.”

*

Dean Winchester is the first to admit that paranoia was trained into him from the age of four, and only rooted deeper by life experience from that point on. But there is something weird going on with Cas, and he is not imagining it. Or maybe he is, and Purgatory is messing with his head, but he still needs to get to the bottom of it. 

So he watches Cas even more closely over the next day or two. Keeps track of every time he so much as leaves to pee (definitely not much of an angel anymore). 

Nothing. 

And no monsters, either. 

Dean starts sleeping for more than three hours at a time. At first, his paranoia makes him reluctant to trust Cas any more than he has to, but he needs to sleep at some point, and he’s becoming more and more tired as the days pass. 

It gets to the point where Dean has to ask to stop and rest for a few minutes, when they’ve only been walking for an hour. Castiel frowns at him. “Dean, is something wrong? You don’t look well.”

“Don’t exactly feel it, either.” Dean grimaces, and leans against a nearby tree to catch his breath. “So goddamn tired.” He’s weak, too, but he thinks that might be hunger. Tree bark and berries only give so much energy.

“You slept all through yesterday, Dean.”

Dean glances over at him. “I what?”

Castiel avoids meeting his eye. “You didn’t respond when it was your turn to watch. I felt it best to let you sleep off whatever was ailing you, but you seem to be getting worse.” 

“No shit, Sherlock.” Dean sinks further down the tree. “I just need food, or something. Meat.” 

“I could hunt for something. Will you be all right on your own?”

Dean gives the barest of nods, his hand tightening around the knife that rarely leaves it.

“I’ll be back soon,” Castiel reassures him, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezing gently. Dean sees the movement, but doesn’t feel it. 

And then Castiel’s gone. Maybe he disappeared in a blink like back in the good old days, or maybe Dean just drifted into sleep again. His head is too fuzzy to know for sure. 

He didn’t think this would be how he’d die in Purgatory. Thought he’d be mauled by something savage seeking revenge, not die slowly from hunger and tiredness. 

He doesn’t, though. Doesn’t die. Castiel returns some time later – minutes or hours, Dean isn’t sure – with a dead rabbit in his hand. Its throat has been torn to shreds, and its fur is covered in blood. 

Two distinct thoughts occur to Dean in that moment, and he isn’t certain which he should be more worried about. Firstly, the hunger clawing at him only intensifies at the sight of the bloodied rabbit, and the thought of devouring it raw and still leaking blood is appealing rather than stomach-churning. 

And secondly, the knife is still in his hand. Dean has been a hunter for almost his entire life – granted, more monsters than animals, but he’s still certain that the wounds on the rabbit couldn’t have been inflicted by a pair of bare hands. 

He thinks he can see blood at the corner of Castiel’s mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently I have some bizarre writer's disease that prevents me from ever writing porn before the third chapter. 
> 
> It's coming, I swear. I _swear_.

“There something you gotta tell me, Cas?” Dean’s voice is as weak as the rest of him.

“Dean…” Castiel steps closer, his hand on Dean’s shoulder again.

The apologetic tone of his voice just irritates Dean further. He thought they were done keeping secrets, that Cas wanted to mend their friendship. And here he is again, keeping things from him.

Dean shrugs away from Castiel’s touch and snatches the rabbit from his hand.

“Don’t you want that cooked?” Castiel frowns at him.

Dean just holds the rabbit up to his mouth and starts drinking down the blood, grateful it’s still warm in his mouth. Something in him screams in relief.

“Dean.” There’s a demanding urgency in Castiel’s voice.

Dean looks up at him, holding the rabbit back out and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He glances down, and then back at the bloodied rabbit. Shit. “Something is really wrong, man. With both of us.”

Castiel nods, and moves to sit down next to Dean. “It would seem this place is twisting us to its own ends somehow. Turning us into the things we fight against.”

“So you’re a skinwalker and I’m what, turning into a vamp?”

“If it’s any comfort, I don’t believe the change will be permanent. There aren’t any humans around here for you to feed from.”

“That’s real reassuring, Cas, thanks.” Dean runs a hand down his face. “Because knowing our luck, this is only gonna get worse. How long before animal blood’s not enough, huh? What am I supposed to do then?”

“You can feed from me. If that will sate you.”

Dean doubts it, and he objects to the offer.  The anger is clear in his voice. “I just don’t get why whatever crap we’re dealing with is never enough. There is always more. Always.  My life has just been one stinking pile of crap on top of another, and it keeps getting worse. There’s no happy ending. You just keep fighting to stay on top of it all until it buries you.”

Castiel shifts closer and presses a hand to Dean’s cheek. “I promise you, Dean. We will get through this, and it will get better.”

Dean turns away, but Castiel’s hand guides him back. “Dean. Look at me. This isn’t the end. Not for either of us. You have my word.”

Dean still refuses to meet his eye. Castiel leans in and presses his lips to Dean’s cheek instead. “You have my word.”

*

They don’t talk about the kiss.

For the most part, Dean is strong enough so long as he feeds off something at least once per day, and they carry on much as before. The monsters continue to keep themselves at bay. Dean guesses they aren’t such exciting prey now that they’re no longer human.

Castiel seems mostly in control of his newfound powers, often shifting to wolf form to hunt or scout ahead. Dean finds he prefers it. When Castiel returns to human form, something in Dean becomes uncomfortable. It isn’t the desire to bite him.

He pushes the thought of what it actually is to the back of his mind.

*

Several days later, Dean starts growing weak again.

Castiel eyes him suspiciously. “Your scent is growing stronger.”

“That’s great, Cas. Really. I mean, I feel like my body’s trying to reject most of my internal organs here, but it’s good to know you can smell me okay.” Dean rests against a tree. He’d throw up if there were anything in his stomach.

“That isn’t what I meant, Dean. Your scent is different to before.” Castiel turns away, like he’s trying not to breathe Dean’s air. “You smell like a female wolf.”

Dean stares at him. “You’re scenting me as a _mate_?” He gives Castiel a lopsided grin. “That’s kinda fucked up, Cas.”

Castiel is immediately defensive. “You’re the one giving off the scent, Dean, not me.”

“Funny, ‘cause I’m fairly sure I’m supposed to be turning into a vamp, not a wolf.” Dean rolls his eyes. “So what, you gonna be tempted to molest me in my sleep or something?”

“I still possess self-control, Dean.” Castiel narrows his eyes.

“Well. Good.” Dean does his best to sound confident, but he’s sure his voice shakes a little. Because there Castiel is, caked in mud but still somehow beautiful, from the blue eyes that Dean has always been sure are too bright to just be Jimmy’s, to the way that he holds himself again, full of his own raw power.

Dean should not be thinking about much he really wouldn’t mind if Cas _had_ been scenting him as a mate.

“We should find somewhere to set up camp for the night.” Castiel’s voice interrupts his thoughts.

Dean just nods.

In the end, they camp about a hundred yards away, because Dean’s body refuses to cooperate enough to walk any further. Castiel leaves to find some water, and Dean curls up into a ball as his insides twist painfully.

He wonders if he’s being made into some new monster.

By the time Castiel returns with their small waterskin filled, Dean is whimpering in pain and barely able to move. Castiel hurries over. He places a hand to Dean’s brow, lifting the waterskin to Dean’s lips so that he can drink. “Do you need me to hunt again?”

Maybe that would be an idea, but right now Dean can’t bear the thought of Cas leaving him like this. Castiel removes his hand, and Dean grabs at it. “Cas. Don’t. Please.”

“Dean, what am I supposed to do? Stay here and watch you die?”

“Not dying. Just…empty.”

“Then let me hunt for something so that you have blood to drink.” Castiel tries to tug his arm away, but Dean holds fast. “Dean, you have to let go of me. I can hunt for you, and… God, Dean, your _scent_.”

Castiel’s pupils are blown wide, and he pulls his arm away with more force than before. “Dean. You need to let go of me, right now, or I won’t be- Dean, _please_.”

Dean shakes his head, still clutching at him. “Cas, I can’t. I need you to- You need to stay.”

“Let me go, and I can help you. Blood can still sate you.”

“Can’t.” Dean shakes his head more violently. “Doesn’t. Still leaves me feeling empty. Feel so fucking _empty,_ Cas.”

“Then what?” Castiel kneels beside him, frowning. “My blood? Tell me what you need, Dean.”

“Need something inside me. Need the energy.”

Castiel’s eyes widen further. “We had it _wrong_ , Dean. You aren’t turning into a vampire. The weakness except when feeding off life energy, the attempts to lure potential mates… This is incubus behaviour.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is wrapping up to a close now (probably one more chapter after this), and it didn't turn out nearly as porny as it did in my head. Apologies for that. Hopefully some of you like it anyway. 
> 
> The allusions to mpreg probably aren't recognisable unless you squint, but they're almost certainly going to become a little more concrete next chapter. So you should probably bail after this chapter if that's not your thing.

Dean manages a weak snort of laughter. “Great. Awesome. Figures I get to be the sex monster.”

 

“Technically speaking, incubi and succubi are capable of sustaining themselves on any form of life energy, including blood and Grace.” Castiel, of course, has no Grace left to offer.

 

“Bet the real thing’d be a hell of a lot more satisfying, though.” Dean isn’t going to lie – he has missed sex. A lot. He guesses he can blame some of that on the monster he’s become, but definitely not all of it.

 

Castiel looks at him hesitantly. “Is that what you need?”

 

He begins pulling off his coat, and Dean jerks a hand out to stop him. “Whoa. I am not taking your virginity in fucking Purgatory, Cas.”

 

To Dean’s surprise, Castiel glares at him. “We don’t exactly have access to a motel room, Dean. I’m not leaving you here to die. If the blood isn’t enough to sustain you, the least I can do is offer this.”

 

It’s too much, but Dean can feel the burning need inside him flaring up once more. Castiel is so close. Could fill him up so good.  “You don’t want this, Cas.”

 

“Dean, I have been around longer than the Earth itself. Allow me to make my own decisions as to what it is I do or do not want.” Castiel places his coat off to one side and leans in closer.

 

The ground is covered with leaf matter that lashes out with curling roots and tiny rocks – hardly the comfiest surface around. But it’s the only one they’ve got, and Dean doesn’t appear to mind as he leans back onto his elbows.

 

Castiel crawls on top of him, cupping Dean’s face gently before pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. It’s closer to those in _Doctor Sexy_ than the one he learned from the pizza man, like that of the two young nurses – he can’t remember their names - after the younger passed her final examination. Or, possibly, more like the one the doctor gave to the patient that he failed.

 

Dean presses back into it, evidently wanting more of the pizza man. Castiel gives it. He opens up his mouth, allowing Dean’s tongue to meet his, and doesn’t resist when Dean grabs his shoulders to pull him closer.

 

Before long, Dean is grinding up against him, and Castiel reaches down to unbutton both his own slacks and Dean’s jeans before realising. “Dean, we can’t- I won’t be able to penetrate you.”

 

Dean looks at him as though Castiel has just suggested he needs to hack his arm off. “Why the hell not?”

 

“We hardly have lubricant to hand. I could still suck you off, if that would attend to your needs. Or you could suck me, I think you might need to take in the energy somehow in order to feed yourself-“

 

“Cas.” Dean cuts him off. “Lube isn’t an issue.” He removes a hand from Castiel’s shoulder and shifts up a little to pull his boxers down.

 

Castiel stares. “You’re...”

 

Dean snorts. “Yeah. Guessing that’s why you thought I smelled female or whatever earlier.” He’s trying not to dwell on how Castiel’s eyes not only widened at the sight of the slick coating his inner thighs, but almost lit up. Partly because it’s more than a tiny bit creepy, and partly because he has much better things to think about.

 

“Not just female. Fertile.” Castiel dips his head lower, spreading Dean’s legs wide and breathing in his scent.

 

Dean swallows. “Dude. Not to interrupt the kinda creepy display, but if you’re still up for fucking me, could you maybe do that already? Like, before I collapse again here?”

 

“My apologies, Dean.” Castiel kisses the inside of his thigh. Dean’s sure he feels a quick swipe of tongue along where his slick has leaked out of him, but he doesn’t have long to dwell on the thought. Castiel’s already pressing fingers inside of him, testing how much he can take.

 

Dean grunts in frustration. “I can take you. Just fuck me already.” He clenches around Castiel’s fingers. “Please.” He doesn’t know how much more of this he can take. His head is already starting to haze over again, and even with his hole being stretched wide, he feels empty.

 

It’s obvious Cas is reluctant to cause Dean any further harm than Purgatory already has, but he gives in anyway. Dean almost cries in relief when he sees Castiel remove his own underwear.

 

And Christ, he should not find the sight so arousing. He might have had moments of considering the other team, but he’s never actually signed on to play for them. Dean Winchester is not a man who gets turned on by the sight of his best friend half-naked and on top of him.

 

Except for now, when he apparently is.

 

He hates Purgatory.

 

Dean isn’t prepared for the few seconds of incredible emptiness when Castiel removes his fingers at last, but he’ll refuse to admit that he whimpers until his dying day. Maybe not even then.

 

“Patience, Dean. I’m trying my best here.” Because at the end of the day, Castiel is still just some virgin angel figuring out what all the parts do, and Dean really shouldn’t expect too much from him.

 

But he’s aching from want, and irritable with his own tiredness. “Yeah, well, d’you think you could maybe hurry your best up a little here?” God, he swears he’s never felt this kind of hunger.

 

And then he feels the tip of Castiel’s cock pressed against him, pushing inside, and it feels like fucking salvation. Dean groans, pushing back instinctively until Castiel’s further sheathed inside him. “Fuck. _Yes_.”

 

He looks up at Castiel, only to find the angel looking wide-eyed and terrified.

 

“Hey. You’re doing great, Cas. Just move when you’re ready, yeah?”

 

Castiel’s eyes grow no less wide. “I didn’t know it was possible to feel this much.”

 

Dean claps him on the shoulder. “Yeah, sex is great like that. Gets better, too. All you gotta do is relax and go with it, ‘kay?” Castiel nods, and Dean tries for a smile. “You good to move now?”

 

It would seem so, because Castiel places his hands either side of Dean and starts slowly working up a rhythm. Dean does his best not to rush him, because just the fact that they’re having sex is pretty awesome and Cas is still new to this, but the creature inside him is screaming for something more. And soon.

 

“Dean, please stop clenching around me, I can’t-“

 

“S’fine, Cas. I just- God, I need you to come inside me. Please. I swear, we can do this slow next time. I just _need_ …” Having Castiel inside him sated his instincts temporarily, but now Dean feels like he’s suffocating all over again. Fuck, he hopes this isn’t his life from now on. They’ve been here for months, and he’s been ignoring this for weeks, at least. It’s been building up. It won’t always be this bad. He won’t always need this much.

 

Dean wishes he could lie convincingly to himself.

 

He grips Castiel that bit tighter, thrusting back against him with a drawn-out groan. “Fuck, Cas. Please.” 

 

Castiel thrusts harder into him, matching Dean’s speed until Dean is a whimpering and writhing mess beneath him. When he finally does come, it catches Dean by surprise as much as it does him.

 

Which isn’t to say that it doesn’t still feel like the most right thing in existence. Dean moans loudly, coming himself a few short seconds later. He collapses back onto the ground, breathing heavily. He’s pretty sure he’s had better sex in the past. He’s not so sure any sex has ever felt that good.

Eventually, he recovers his breath enough to ask- “Cas, you okay?”

 

Castiel just rests against Dean’s chest, mumbling his answer into Dean’s collarbone. They fall asleep like that, exhausted and unworried by other monsters.


End file.
